


Shell

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Even when pon farr’s finished, there are other instincts to adhere to.





	Shell

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His mind is slowly seeping back into itself, _logic_ once more within his grasp, but only in drips and drabs that he has to struggle after. His skin still burns, sweats, and his breath still comes ragged, hammering against his chest. He peers down over his bed through the dimmed lights, tracing over the familiar form twisted in his sheets. _James Kirk_ is a beautiful mate. In moments like this, where Spock’s quivering with thrumming _emotion_ he would otherwise keep at bay, he can admit that he’s _proud_ to have Jim with him. There’s no one else he’d rather have—not even the admirable young woman who was once chosen specially for him, said to fit him in every way. Jim is that. Jim is that other half, that missing piece, of Spock’s fractured being.

Jim sleeps, spent and drained, in a self-made mess of blankets and bodily fluids. He deserves that sleep. He ran with Spock through the ravaging of a rough _pon farr_ , and he held up far better than any other human could’ve hoped. Than Spock could’ve expected. Still flushed and sticky, he looks more peaceful now than he has in days. But something’s wrong about the scene—something that makes Spock’s fingers twitch and his instincts rage. _There’s more to do._ He’s had Jim over every surface in his disheveled quarters, and he’s bonded them so deeply that he doubts the imprint of Jim’s _katra_ will ever leave his head. But it isn’t perfect yet.

He’s sane enough now to fight his instinct. He swallows and tries to shuffle back, perched on the very edge of the bed, but that only makes him feel sick, and he goes crawling back, hands and knees seeking out Jim’s warmth again. It’s a wretched, accursed truth, but there’s no sense in lying. _Vulcans don’t lie._ Or Spock tries not to, if he can help it, and Jim’s told him enough not to lie to himself.

He nudges Jim, lightly shaking one shoulder, and half hopes Jim will sleep right through it. Maybe Jim will sleep through the rest of Spock’s shame, and Jim will never know.

It isn’t worth risking. Jim always finds out, one way or another.

Spock growls low, “ _t’hy’la_.” The _pon farr_ ’s left his throat dry, his voice husky. He probes into Jim’s mind, slipping from one consciousness to another with comfortable ease. He feels Jim stir to life, and then hazy blue eyes creak open to peer up at him. Jim’s soft lips draw into a languid smile. He stretches his arms but otherwise doesn’t move, just luxuriates where he is, in the center of their little world. 

“Feel better yet?” Jim slurs, voice just as wrecked as Spock’s is.

Spock doesn’t answer ‘yes,’ because that would be a lie. Instead, he schools his face into neutrality, _fights_ for his usual calm, and suggests, “It would be prudent for you to return to your own quarters.”

Jim frowns. Spock anticipated some dissent. But Jim seems too tired to be as difficult as usual. He just asks, “Why?” Then, after a pause, “Is the _pon farr_ flaring up again?” He shifts, as though ready for it, rolling his hips down towards the mattress, and the white sheets are dragged a little further down his pert rear. Spock tries not to follow the movement, not to eye Jim’s delectable form with renewed vigor and lust. He knows Jim will already need to visit Dr. McCoy after this affair, and Spock has no intention of causing his beloved _t’hy’la_ any further damage.

But he does wish for Jim to retain some respect for him, so he tries to explain, “No. There are simply... other... shameful instincts...”

Jim wryly snorts, “More shameful than several days of frantic sex with your captain?”

No, not really. But Spock would have avoided that too if he could’ve, if the urge weren’t _so strong_ , and Jim so very irresistible. He would’ve spared Jim the soreness and the bruises. But they talked about it plenty enough beforehand, because Spock knew it would be inevitable, and Jim’s never been good at backing down.

 _This_ is a separate matter, one Spock had hoped to overcome, that he’d never even thought to mention in the face of the more damaging _pon farr_ trials. Sometimes he does wish that he had a docile, easy mate that would turn away from him whenever things grew difficult. Yet that wouldn’t be _Jim_ , and Spock loves him so completely.

Jim lifts a tired hand, reaching for Spock’s face, and Spock moves into it. He lets Jim’s palm cup his cheek, and the palpable spark of their touch makes him shiver in delighted memories. Jim tells him quietly, “Just do whatever it is, Spock. I’ll accept it, like I accept you. _All_ of you.” He means it. Spock knows that. Jim’s a remarkable human. 

And maybe he won’t judge Spock’s disgrace—something his people never show if they can help it, not even with mates unless absolutely necessary, not anymore. Not since _logic_ overtook them. Things like this, so distressingly _pointless_ , are very private matters.

There is no privacy on the _Enterprise_. Spock sucks in a breath and begins to move. He gently gathers the sheets tangled between Jim’s legs, pulling them free with a special care so as not to disturb his mate.

He also gathers the dark blue duvet that’s been kicked over the side, and he knits them together, slowly and meticulously, in a gradual circle around the bed’s perimeter. Jim watches in respectful silence.

As Spock leaves to fetch his long-discarded uniform, then Jim’s, he mutters, “I had hoped being away from the sands of Vulcan would mean that such primal instincts would not reach me, but I was wrong.” In the ancient days, before any could get lost in the depths of space, a man like Spock would dig his nest into the dessert, and he would recover from his feral mating in a safety of his own making. Now there is no sand, but there’s malleable material that he can cocoon around their mattress. He can feel Jim’s gaze heavy on his back.

When he spares a look at Jim’s handsome face, Jim’s dazedly smiling. Jim murmurs fondly, “You’re adorable.”

Spock can feel his cheeks heating. He doesn’t have the strength yet to fight that reaction. So he lets his face tint green, and he continues constructing their nest, until his urges are soothed and he feels his mate is safe. 

Only then does he curl back into Jim, their bodies intertwining everywhere they touch, and he lets Jim coax him into sleep.


End file.
